The First Sir Percy by Baroness Orczy (which ebook reader TXT) ๐
Description
Set a mere three months after The Laughing Cavalier, the titular first Sir Percy is set to wed his love Gilda in a double wedding with her brother and his intended. The attendees include many of the rich and famous, including the Stadtholder himself. But immediately after the ceremony, bad news arrives, and Percy, A.K.A. Diogenes, is tasked with rushing to get messages to two of the Stadtholderโs divisions that are in peril from the enemy. But there are unknown enemies about as well as known ones, and Diogenes will soon face the darkest hours and direst threats of his young life.
In the seventh entry in the series, Baroness Orczy returns again to early seventeenth-century Netherlands, but with a darker tone than The Laughing Cavalier. This time she turns her focus to the antagonist and his henchmen, and once again puts her hero in an untenable position. This time the nationโs life is at stake, as well as his own.
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- Author: Baroness Orczy
Read book online ยซThe First Sir Percy by Baroness Orczy (which ebook reader TXT) ๐ยป. Author - Baroness Orczy
He drank a loyal toast to the coming new era, to the Archduchess, to King Philip IV, who in his glorious reign would see Spain once more unconquered, the Netherlands subdued, England punished at last. Nicolaes joined him with many a lustful shout, whilst the burgomaster sat with set lips, his eyes glowing with suppressed indignation. Once or twice it seemed as if his stern self-control would give way, as if his burning wrath would betray him into words and deeds that might cause abysmal misery to hundreds of innocent people whilst not serving in any way the cause which he would have given his life to uphold.
Indeed, in the book of heroic deeds of which Godโs angel hath a record, none stand out more brilliantly than the endurance of the Burgomaster of Amersfoort and of his daughter on this memorable occasion. Nor is there in the whole valorous history of the Netherlands a more glorious page than that which tells of the sacrifice made by father and daughter in order to save the city which they loved from threatened annihilation.
IIIBut like all things, good and evil, the trial came to an end at last. The Lord of Stoutenburg gave the signal, and the burgomaster and Gilda rose from the table both, in truth, with a deep sigh of thankfulness.
Stoutenburg remained deferential until the endโ โdeferential, that is, with an undercurrent of mockery, which he took no pains to conceal. His bow, as he finally took leave of his guests, bidding the burgomaster a simple farewell and Gilda au revoir until the dawn on the morrow, was so obviously ironical that Beresteyn was goaded into an indignant tirade, which he regretted almost as soon as he had uttered it.
โLet him who stands,โ he said firmly, and with all of his wonted dignity, โtake heed lest he fall. The Netherlands are not conquered yet, my lord, because your mercenary troops have succeeded, for the time being, in overrunning one of her provinces. Ede may have fallen. Amersfoort may for the moment, be under your heelโ โโ
โArnheim and Nijmegen may have capitulated by now,โ Stoutenburg broke in derisively. โSold to De Berg, like Amersfoort and Ede, by the craven smeerlap to whom you have given your daughter.โ
โEven that may have happened,โ the burgomaster riposted hotly, โif so be the will of God. But we are a race of fighters. We have beaten and humiliated the Spaniard and driven him from off our land before now. And Maurice of Nassau, the finest captain of the age, is unconquered still!โ
โMightily sick, so Iโm told,โ the other put in carelessly. โHe was over-ready, methinks, to abandon Amersfoort to its fate.โ
โOnly to punish you more effectually in the end. Take heed, my lord, take heed! The multiplicity of your crimes will find you out soon enough.โ
โโโSblood!โ retorted Stoutenburg, unperturbed; โbut you forget, mynheer burgomaster, that, whateโer betide me, your daughterโs fate is henceforth linked to mine own.โ
Then it was that Beresteyn repented of his outburst, for indeed he had gained nothing by it, and Stoutenburg had used the one argument which was bound to silence him. What, in truth, was the use of wrangling? Dignity was sure to suffer, and that mocking recreant would only feel that his triumph was more complete.
Even now he only laughed, pointed with an ironical flourish of his arm to the widely open doors, through which in the dimly lighted hall, a group of men could be perceived, sitting or standing around the centre table, with Diogenes standing in their midst, his fair head crowned by the hideous bandage, and his broad shoulders towering above the puny, swarthy Spanish soldiery. He had a mug of ale in his hand, and holding it aloft he was singing a ribald song, the refrain of which was taken up by the men. In the vague and flickering light of resin torches, his sightless orbs looked spectral, like those of a wraith.
โYou should be grateful to me, mynheer,โ Stoutenburg added with a sneer, โfor freeing your daughter from such a yoke.โ
He returned to Gilda, took her unresisting hand and raised it to his lips. Above it, he was watching her face. She was looking beyond him, straight at the blind man; and though Stoutenburg at that moment would have bartered much for the knowledge of what was in her thoughts, he could not define the expression of her eyes. At one time he thought that they had softened, that the fulfilment of all his hopes was hanging once more in the balance. It seemed for the moment as if she would snatch away her hand and seek shelter, as she had done before, against the heart of her beloved; that right through that outer husk of misery and degradation she saw something that puzzled her rather than repelled. A question seemed to be hovering on her lips. A question of a protest. Or was it a mute appeal for forgiveness?
Stoutenburg could not tell. But he felt that for a space of a few seconds the whole edifice of his desires was tottering, that Fate might, after all, still be holding a thunderbolt in store for him, which would hurl him down from the pinnacle of this momentary triumph. Gildaโ โas a womanโ โwas still unconquered. Neither her heart nor her soul would ever be his. Somehow it was the glance wherewith she regarded the blind man that told the Lord of Stoutenburg this one unalterable fact.
The sortilege which he had tried to evoke, by letting her look on the pitiful wreck who had once been her lover, had fallen short in its potent charm. His own brilliant prospects, his masterful personality, ay, his well-assumed indifference, had all failed to cast their spells over her.
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